The Light Behind His Eyes
by theyellowumbrella
Summary: Jess needs someone to save him from himself but he won't admit it. Who better than Rory Gilmore to try and get him to? AU Lit. (very strong trigger warning; suicide, self-harm, possible abuse)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **As always, I only own the computer that I wrote this on and the bed that I was sitting on whilst. Liz is pretty out of character but she's not all that prominent. Rory'll be introduced soon

It started when he was thirteen. His mom had some random guy over and they were going at it in her room, something no thirteen year old kid should hear his mom doing, and he was alone in his room. With nothing on TV, he went to make something for his dinner. Jess remembers the day like it was yesterday, remembers how normal it felt when the knife touched his bony wrists.

_Jess steps into the cluttered kitchen wearily, trying his best not to stand on anything and break it. This guy that Liz is with right now, Alan or something, always gets mad whenever he breaks anything. He doesn't understand what his mom sees in the guy. Sure, he isn't a total uggo or anything but she could do so much better. He's seen her do so much better._

_There's old mac and cheese sitting in the cooking pot, days old. Much too lumpy to even touch now. He scolds himself quietly for not emptying the pot as soon as he was done eating the other night, remembering the distraction of his current read, To Kill a Mockingbird, sitting in his room, waiting to be opened. He cleans it out as much as he can and decides to just heat up a can of soup instead._

_When reaching for the can opener, Jess spots a small knife. Not a butter knife, but not much more. Not blunt, either way. Without thinking much of it, he takes it out of the drawer, along with the can opener, and sets it down on the counter._

_His soup is cold and tasteless, or maybe that's because Jess is too focused on the knife sitting on the counter, waiting to be picked up and used for reasons it should never be used. Once it's done and he's cleared away his dirty dishes and washed everything up, instead of going to read some more like he normally would, Jess finally has the courage to take the knife into his hands. He rolls his sleeves up and stares at his pale white arms. They look too much like something he's not, or something he doesn't want to be, or something he wants to be but never will. He's not exactly sure, but in that moment, he just wants to make a mark. He feels like Picasso, making his first mark on a blank canvas. It's stupid and he'll regret it, he already knows. Maybe that's why he decides to go along with it._

_Breathing in sharply, Jess slowly presses the knife down on his wrist. He waits a second before gently dragging it across. It's painless and barely makes a mark, so he does it again and applies more pressure. The faintest of lines appears on his wrist, but no blood comes out. Once again, he presses down even harder and drags with more force, and he repeats this one action until there's blood oozing out of him. He feels alive, in a twisted way._

_He does it until Liz's door opens and he can hear her footsteps in the hall, so he quickly wipes off the knife with a towel and shoves it back into the drawer. His arm, still dripping with blood, is really, in no other words, unavoidable. He decides quickly that he'll have to lie to his mom about it. Protect her from the truth. Which is just totally shitty that he feels the need to do that considering how bad of a parent she actually is._

_"Jess, sweetie, what happened?" she asks when she sees her son's bloody arm, playing the doting mother for once._

_"I was making myself some soup and I got cut on the can opener," he spins quickly, using the first lie to come to mind._

_There's too much blood. There's far too much blood for that to be true, Liz notices as soon as he says it. There are cuts everywhere, all over his skin. All over his pale, pure little arms. Her baby. Her little baby Jess. He cut himself. Oh, God. Her baby cut himself. Because of her, she bets herself. Because of her. Her baby cut herself because of her._

_She doesn't say anything, but she hugs him. He gets blood all over her favourite shirt which is sure to stain, but she hugs him even closer when she realises. She just wants to hug him and feel his bony body pressed against hers to reassure her that she can make him okay again, even though he never really was okay if it came to this._

He looks down at his wrists. The scars, although faded, are still there. Everywhere. All over his milky white wrists. It's scary to think that he hadn't really known what he was doing back then, just cutting anywhere and everywhere. Nowadays, he knows where exactly he needs to cut so that his mom won't find the scars and if he doesn't pay much attention, neither will he.

"You're staying with your uncle," Liz says to him one morning, thrusting a couple of suitcases towards him. "I can't handle you anymore. Come on, he lives in Stars Hollow, it's kinda far."

"What the hell is Stars Hollow?" Jess asks, ignoring the aching feeling he gets when he thinks about the fact that his mom is really, actually, properly kicking him out.

"It's a small town in Connecticut. Real sweet. Where I grew up. C'mon, we have to hurry."

They get in the car and drive silently to this Stars Hollow place. Jess reads a book with an unmemorable title and Liz listens to the radio, clamping down on her lip to refrain from singing out the words with a grin on her face like she would of done when she was Jess' age.

They finally arrive outside of some diner with a sign that says Luke's, and the name rings a bell in Jess' mind. Big brother Luke. The bell rings when they walk in, and Jess' mind screams kill me now. "I do love you," Liz says when she drops him off.

The first night, his blades lie untouched. Jess isn't sure how it happens, because there's a lot of thoughts swirling around in his mind that would usually drive him straight to them, but he somehow manages to stay grounded, for some reason scared of what Luke will think if he catches him. It takes everything in himself to not touch them, to stay clean for one day. The first day in months.

Don't get him wrong, he's tried to stay clean. So many times has he sat there, counting away the days since he flicked a lighter against his skin, or dragged the razor down it, or took out his favourite pair of scissors and cut away slowly until his skin was in shreds. But it would always end the same way; with a bottle of alcohol and the instrument of his breakdown.

Stars Hollow blows. This becomes evident on his second day there, his first day at school, where he's made fun of for the way he looks and the known fact that his mother was a slut. There's nobody interesting in his classes and his uncle just wants him to feel at home, he can tell, which unsettles him because he's so used to not having an authority figure give a damn. He isn't used to anyone giving a damn.

That woman, Lorelai something, hates him already. She sees him as the bad kid who fell into the wrong crowd and smoked behind the bike sheds to look cool, and as the kid who would kiss random girls and not call them back. Who would spend their Saturday nights with a girl who's name he doesn't know, unaware that he's that kid that spends his Saturday nights with a bottle of whisky, bleary eyes and his favourite lighter.

He gets through the second day without a cut or a burn or a scratch or any form of self harm again, and he's not even really proud of himself, because he sees the inevitable happening. He's going to pick up those blades, doesn't matter when, and slice his skin open again. There's no point in saying that it won't happen; it will.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Not awfully happy with this chapter, but I promised myself I'd update today since I was off school with a sickness bug that's being spread around. Maybe a little OOC at some points but just remember it's AU. Thank you to my friend as always for inspiring me to write this story. Hopefully back with an update soon!

**Disclaimer: **As always, I only own the computer I wrote this on and I don't even own the sofa I was sitting on whilst. None of these characters or anything to do with _Gilmore Girls _has, and ever will, be mine. No copyright infringement intended. (That's what it is, right?)

* * *

><p>Jess meets Rory Gilmore on a Saturday. It's not an important Saturday, it's unsignificant to his life as a whole, but in a few years, he'd maybe consider it as the day that saved him. "This is Rory," Luke says, gesturing to a girl with a small frame who's dressed in a preppy uniform. Pretty. Probably a bitch, he guesses. "She's Lorelai's daughter."<p>

"Nice to meet you," Rory says with a polite smile, shaking his hand.

He smiles back as well and repeats what she said, nodding slightly at her. Lorelai has a fake smile on as she watches the interaction carefully, almost afraid of Jess turning her little girl bad.

He's wearing a thin, long-sleeved, white shirt. You can almost see his scars through the thin material, but only if you stare long and hard. It's a bad idea, he knows, but it was the only shirt available to wear and Luke was urging him along, yelling to come on, that they'll be late.

It goes badly, to say the least. He drinks beer, pisses off Lorelai, makes assumptions and upsets Rory. "I'm sorry," he says to her on his way out, shrugging a little. "I didn't mean anything by what I said."

"It's okay," she says. Jess still feels like shit, like he wants to go home and let it all out on himself. But he can't, because he's set himself a goal now. Try and be proud of staying clean. Try and stay clean for as long as possible. Don't die.

"No, it's not."

"It is, Jess, don't worry," Rory says. "Here, why don't we take a trip down to the lake? It's pretty peaceful down there. I know you probably want to get away from my mom and Luke and I can be un-irritating when I need to be."

"You're not irritating in the first place," he says casually, sending a small smile her way. She blushes, her cheekings turning a light shade of pink.

"Mom, Jess and I are gonna go for a walk down by the lake. We won't be late. See you soon!"

They don't talk on the walk, not really. Short sentences and forgetful words are exchanged and it doesn't matter what happens on the walk, not really, but Jess is focused on what's going to happen at the lake. He knows he's unstable, visibly unstable, by the way he shakes when he talks and the hollowness of his face.

They arrive at the lake only eight minutes later—Rory times it—and take a seat on the bridge. "So..."

And then that's when the awkward chitchat begins. It's comprised of talk of school, home life, Luke, Babette and Miss Patty and all of the random shit that he really couldn't care less about but Rory obviously does. He makes her laugh at one point, so hard that she snorts a little, obviously disgusting herself. "Oh, God! I'm sorry, that was probably gross and... I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was cute." He doesn't let him think about it, not really, but Rory goes bright red.

"Um... I have a boyfriend."

"Good for you." Jess says with a smirk.

"So... you seem pretty mad at the world," Rory says out of nowhere.

Jess is taken aback by the question and takes a minute to recover, but when he does, he decides to only say, "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Why do you think I'm gonna tell you, some stranger that I just met, all of my problems in the world? You're nice but I don't know you. No way." Rory looks hurt slightly but doesn't let it show too much.

"I'd tell you my problems but I don't have many. Paris is still pretty much a bitch but she's one of my good friends and I love her, I guess, so it's okay, and my dad is still partially AWOL from my life, as per usual, but I've got Luke as consolation. And my mom... is still my best friend in the world. So, I'm okay. But you're not."

"No, I'm not. But that's okay, I guess. I'm okay with the un-okayness, if that makes sense."

"It makes sense."

There's silence for a while as Rory fiddles around with a little teddy bear that she keeps in her pocket every day. She throws it into the air and catches it multiple times, and Jess watches in amazement, mesmerised. And then the teddy bear falls into the lake and begins floating around, going downstream, further and further away.

Rory calls out and Jess springs into action. Without thinking about it, he rolls up his sleeves and dives into the water. He swims around until he finally gets hold of it, gripping it tightly in the palm of his hand. It takes a few minutes, but he finally makes his way back to the bridge, where Rory is sitting with a terrified look on her face.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry, Jess, you didn't have to-" she starts, tears running down her face quickly.

"Don't worry about it," he says, handing her the soaked teddy bear. "He was looking a little dirty anyway, that was probably good for him."

Rory smiles a little at her new friend, letting a laugh escape her pale pink lips. That is until she catches sight of the bright red marks on his wrists and she comes to an abrupt halt. "Jess."

"Rory."

"What's that? On your wrists. What's that? Are those cuts?" she asks, beginning to feel sick.

"Um..." Jess says, turning paler than he already was (if possible). "It's not what it... I'm not..."

"Have you been self-harming?" The question hits Jess like a tonne of bricks. He doesn't call it that. He calls it stress relieving. _This isn't real_, he tries to tell himself. _This isn't real_.

"I guess. But I'm clean. Two days." And it sounds so pathetic now that he actually says it aloud. Two days. Two fucking days. Two days is nothing compared to some people.

"I'm proud of you," she says, but he doesn't feel the pride.

"Yeah."

"I am, Jess. Two days can be a lot to some people."

"It's hard. 'Cause for so long I was used to doing it everyday, y'know? Come home, read a couple of chapters of a book, then I'd go get them out. Or I'd get my lighter. Didn't matter. The pain wasn't painful anymore. I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be a complete and utter stereotype." He says with a bitter laugh.

"It's okay. When did you start?"

"When I was thirteen. There was nothing else to do and my wrists looked too empty. I wanted to make a mark on the world but I was too young, too small, too unknown. I couldn't make a mark on the whole world so I made a mark on my world."

And then it's quiet and Rory can't say anything and Jess doesn't want to, but finally he says, "I tried to kill myself before."

"How many times?" Rory asks, afraid of the answer.

"Three."

"When?"

"When I was fourteen, when I was sixteen and two months, seventeen days ago. The first time was really dark. I was going through a really hard time in my life and I physically couldn't stop it. No matter what I did. He said if I told my mom he'd kill us both, and I wouldn't of listened with anyone else."

"What happened?" she questions, resting her hand on his leg.

"I don't really wanna talk about it. Just know that I'm broken, and that I don't like my life or myself, but I'm not really gonna die anytime soon."

"You'll be okay, Jess Mariano."

It's not really a comfort, but it's nice to know she thinks so.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Okay, so I had a chapter halfway written out for this, and it wasn't as good as I was hoping it would be, but it was good enough quality to post. There wasn't much for me to finish off, and it would take me maybe thirty minutes, and that's probably too much. But then, of course, my computer completely froze up and I was forced to restart it without saving any of what I had written. So, here we go. This update comes to you so late as I've had school, so I'll try my best to update at the weekends I have free (see, I have tomorrow, Saturday, free but I have a concert on Sunday) but I can't promise you anything. I'll try and update whenever I can, so maybe on weekdays sometimes. I'll try and update at least once a week. Hope you enjoy this!

**Disclaimer: **As always, I only own the laptop I wrote this on. Not even the couch I was sitting on whilst. That belongs to my mother. All recognisable characters belong to Amy Sherman Palladino, not me. Never me. I am literally just a kid from a place in Scotland no one's ever heard of who watches TV all day and writes stupid stories about them. That is all.

"Gilmore! Hey," Jess says, smirking at Rory, who's rushing around the diner with her school bag hanging off of her shoulder.

"Coffee!" she yells, dropping her bag onto the floor beside her. "Luke, can I please have some coffee?" she asks the older man, who's standing behind the counter with a small smile on his face.

"You know, coffee is killing you, Rory. It's too late for your mom, trust me, I know, but it's not too late for you," Luke says, but he goes for the coffee and pours it into a to go cup, noticing the time.

"I think I'll live," she says with a grin, taking the steaming hot cup of coffee from Luke's hands. Taking a sip from it, she can't help herself from letting a small moan escape her mouth. She's a Gilmore, what did you expect? Jess can't help from finding it at least a little sexy. He's a seventeen year old hormonal male, it's what's to be expected. Pretty girl moans, he finds it hot. "Luke, this is amazing. First batch is always best.

"Yeah, thanks. You're exactly like your mother. Don't let yourself become addicted, though. Tell me if you think that's gonna happen, I'll sign you up for Coffee Addicts Anonymous," he jokes, flashing his daughter figure an impish grin.

"I have to go now, but Mom and I will definitely be back tonight. See you, Jess," she says with a polite smile, taking her coffee in one hand and pulling her bag over her shoulder.

He smiles back at her and says that he'll see her tonight, and then waves goodbye to his Uncle Luke and sets off for school.

They don't see each other until the following Saturday, in all actuality, because Rory's studying or Jess is out or Lorelai goes and Rory doesn't, and it's like they're ignoring each other for no good reason at all, but maybe Jess sort of doesn't want to see her again. Because she knows about it all, about the self harming and the cuts and the burns and she knows a little about what's driving him to it, and he doesn't want her to. He really doesn't.

The Saturday that they see each other just so happens to be the Saturday of the Firelight Festival. Luke and Lorelai are sitting talking on a bench, she's drinking a takeaway cup of coffee and he's scolding her for it, and as Jess looks on at the scene, he smiles a little to himself. Because this is what friendship looks like. Just sitting there, talking on and on and on about nothing and everything, not caring what they look like.

"It looks pretty, doesn't it?" The familiar voice breaks Jess from his trance.

"Hmm?" Jess asks Rory, who appeared beside him only seconds ago.

"The lights. They look so pretty." 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess. I wasn't really paying attention to the lights, if I'm honest." He smiles at her, edging only a little closer to the girl. Not a noticeable amount.

"What were you looking at?" she asks, genuinely interested.

"Your mom and my uncle. They look so... natural. It's peaceful. I like it. She's not running around shouting for once, and he's not ranting at her. They're just sitting there talking, and it's nice. It's real. Anyone could be looking and they don't care. It's friendship," he says, staring some more with admiration.

"Yeah, they do that a lot. I remember when we first met Luke," she says, smiling at the sight. "Him and Mom would talk so much and get distracted so much that I had to hit Luke every time I couldn't get their attention. That bruise on his chest? My fist. I got pretty strong towards the end."

He laughs at her and says, "Yeah. They seem pretty into it, huh?"

"I think they secretly like each other," she whispers as if the whole town isn't in on it. "But they won't admit it." 

Jess laughs some more. He can't remember a time in the past few months when he's laughed so much. "Yeah, I can see it." 

There's a nice, comfortable silence, until Rory says, "So, how are you doing?"

And God, he hates the way it sounds. So sorry. So fucking worried. "I'm good," he says a little awkwardly.

"Um, well, I brought you something. Sorry it has puppies on it, I'm sure I could find a different one for you, but it was the only one I could find at that time and I was already late and... here." She hands him a calendar with puppies all over it, and he smiles at the sentiment behind it. "It's to mark off the days you stay clean on. Luke'll make fun of you, just a bit. Only for the calendar."

"Just a little. Thanks."

"It's okay."

"Yeah. It's okay. It's all okay." He repeats it for a while, and Rory leaves him alone because he's stuck in a trance. _It's all okay_, that's all he says. _It's all okay_.

He doesn't know how it happens, but sometime during the next month, he finds himself alone one night with too many thoughts and not enough time, and too many distractions. His blades are sitting untouched in his suitcase, still, never moved from the first day he arrived in this Godforsaken town, but he finds himself reaching for them out of habit. The release he gets from running the razor down his wrist is unbelievable, and he doesn't mean to do it for as long as he does, but he finds his arm gushing with blood and he doesn't know who else he can go to. It's early, still, and Luke'll be at the diner. He can escape out the window and say that's how he got the blood, but Rory will see the scars everywhere, and she'll be disappointed. He throws the puppy calendar across the room and screams, and then pulls a jacket on and walks around to the crap shack.

Lorelai answers the door, clearly not pleased to see Jess, and puts on a smile and invites him in. "She's in her room," she says when he asks where Rory is, and gives him directions.

"I'm so sorry," he says when she lets him in, and she frowns at him.

"For what?" It's an innocent question, and she seems so childlike in that moment that Jess doesn't want to tell her, almost can't tell her.

"I'm sorry," he says, and repeats it over and over and over. She knows something's wrong. He doesn't take his jacket off like he should, and she has to ease it off of him eventually when he's gripping onto the sleeves so tight that his knuckles go white.

"Jess!" she exclaims when she sees the bloody mess. It's all smeared, and half is dry and half is still wet, and it gets all over Rory's hands but she can't care less, really. Without any panic, she takes him into the bathroom and cleans him up with brand new bandages and gauze, and she calms him down as he cries onto her shoulder. She'll never tell anyone about this, not for as long as she lives.

They don't know each other, not well enough. They know each other on a personal level. She knows that he hates himself and he knows that her dad is pretty much a deadbeat so she has Luke, but he doesn't know her favourite colour or what song she hums when she's bored or what her comfort food is, and it's gnawing away at him slowly. He isn't sure why, because it's not like he likes her or something, but he feels like he should know these things if he's going to come to her when he breaks.


End file.
